


Enchantress

by orphan_account



Category: InuYasha - A Feudal Fairy Tale
Genre: Adventure, Angst, F/M, Fantasy, Fluff, Gen, I Don't Even Know, I Tried, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I wanted to write this like an original fiction but thought meh, I'm Sorry, Magic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-28
Updated: 2020-07-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:08:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,522
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25567207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Relationships: Kikyo/Original Male Characters
Kudos: 1





	Enchantress

The morning sun rose against the blotched night sky as Kikyo stretched in her sleep, her long black locks falling over her sweaty forehead. A small smile broke upon her lips as she opened her eyes and Ryzek said, in a hushed voice, “Blessings to the morn, mama.”

“Blessings to your morn as well, my dear,” Kikyo cupped a hand over his left cheek, where the scar from his last beating had finally faded. His inky black hair now hung just above his shoulders, but he insisted on braiding them while going out to the market to get groceries. It had practically become the only time he was allowed outside anyway.

Kikyo looked at the antique clock that hung over the mantelpiece, and said, “It’s almost the fourth hour of the day, we must go to the orchard now.”

Ryzek slowly crawled out of the bedding, putting on his coat and sandals over the cotton nightwear he wore to bed, and tiptoed to the main door. Slipping his hand through the mail door, he opened the latch and motioned to Kikyo. She tugged the sleeves of her kimono to cover her arms, and then set out towards the orchard.

Ryzek pushed the ornate door with the brute force he had, and the light from the still smoldering brimstone coals lit up the orchard. Orange hue darkened the Whiteberry tree, painting its grey leaves in a dull colour of red. The pointy ends of Yakrirch tree’s needles held dew drops of fresh brimstone. Some needles still shed the viscous liquid on their tips, which landed on the ground, making a hissing sound as they seeped into the roots. Sumptuous fruits hung on numerous bushes, shiny and plump with days of care and showers. A stone path well-lit by the brimstone ended in the Yakrirch’s roots. Ryzek was the first to reach the tree, his small hands holding a white square piece of cloth to pluck the ripe cones off it. He was being careful not to touch the pods by the skin, but with the help of cloth. He had only collected ten pods when the white cloth had turned into a mushy grey.

Kikyo followed on her tiptoes, avoiding the coals that still hissed their dying tune near her feet. She did not bother with the cloth, and picked the pods with her bare hands, that were already a pitch black from the years of plucking Yakrirch fruits. She opened a few pods, letting the beans fall out to the stone path, only to be turned to ash by the coals. She took out a bag from her pocket, and started to pour Ryzek’s collection into it, tiny onyx beads rolling from the soiled cloth into the bag. As they filled it to near the brim, Kikyo snapped it shut.

Ryzek whispered in a low voice, “You know, yesterday I saw a magnificent dream.”

Kikyo smiled. “What was it, Ryzek?”

“I saw us escaping,” Ryzek smiled conspiratorially, “We even lit up Gynryej’s loins. You should have seen his face when he screamed fire.”

Kikyo rolled the bag of beans in her hands. “Well, this dream of yours is soon to come true.”

“How?” Ryzek asked, the simplest of all questions. Yet having the most complex answers.

“You might jinx it if I tell you,” Kikyo said, wincing as she uttered the words so as to soften them.

Ryzek didn’t care much about the jinx thing. He was a young boy of five, yet to understand the ways of life. He just laughed and pointed at the bag of Yakrirch beans. “Why do we pluck them every seventh day? It’s such a chore and blackens my hands.”

Kikyo put a finger to her lips and smiled. “It’s my little secret.”

* * *

Rizral stabbed the silver fork into the felonwood table, driving a hole in it. His eyes pointedly looked at his younger cousin, Strix, and he snarled. His father, Riolus, snapped at him. “What are you doing!”

“I’m ensuring that my right does not get stolen by some immature half-wit,” Rizral said, grinding his teeth. Strix was three years younger to him, and he hadn’t even grown his second pair of teeth yet! He did not inherit the family magic, nor did he have any war skills. But all this talk was going to go over Riolus’ head. He had just assumed that Rizral was unfit for headmanship because he was reckless. The nerve!

“You cannot deny your cousin his place either!” Riolus slowly whispered, but his words held power inside them like no other. Riz felt a wave of emotions crash against him. He composed himself, and shot an angry look at Strix. “If you had only asked, I would have given you whatever you want!”

Riolus stared on in anger. “He’s your brother.”

“He’s no kin of mine,” Riz said, his gaze flitting to his father’s. “I only bear him so as to impress you.”

“My impression isn’t going to improve your position as the head of Malos Arcanis.” His father was imposing. His mere presence was scary. And Riz sort of lived to his family name. Albeit for all the wrong reasons. Malos were always described as scary folk. They commanded respect and incited fear amongst the common folk. But Riz literally drove the message home. He was extremely angry at all times and his rage shot up at unexpected moments.

Strix remained silent. His expression was remorseful, but Riz decided to overlook it. “Father, he hasn’t even gotten his second set! He hasn’t inherited Shadow Casting! Even Ghufrul has not accepted him as a part of the family!”

“We are modern, we do not adhere to ancient superstitions.” Riolus huffed. “That Oracle is nothing but a stone statue.”

“You call yourself modern, yet reside in caves, refuse to take carrals and burn away books that even mention Shadowcasting in it.” Riz felt an abnormal emotion seeping out from him. “All because that human king told you that all magic is harmful.”

“That’s it,” Riolus said, getting up from the table. “We have decided that Strix will be my successor.”

Riz threw his plate on the floor. “Do whatever you like! Giving the rights of the clan to a talenteless child who would certainly abandon the clan in time of need! And people call me the idiot!”

Riolus sighed as Riz rushed away to his chamber. Shadowfolk did not believe in luxury, so there were no curtains, no beddings, no sheets and lighting devices. Rather, only a single table where families would get along at dinner was the only commodity Malos Arcanis had. Again, hammering into the children that family was important, an inseparable part of their life.

Riz lied down on the stone floor, the warmth being sucked away by the coldness underneath him. Rizral wanted to have a carral as soon as possible. The longing for a prey was weighing down on him. But carrals were made illegal a decade ago. Carrals were human, or sometimes lower forms of life that were companions for the Shadowfolk. They would swear fealty to the Shadowfolk, present them with their power, magic or emotions, and expect nothing in return. But that stupid human king outlawed carrals because he thought that it was basically slavery. It is easier to talk about freedom when you live in lavish palaces and do not have to worry about game and the next meal. In Riz’s world, the only freedom you ever got was death.

* * *

Kikyo heard the thunder strike twice in the distance, as she cradled little Kaeri in her arms. She had already pulled down the blinders, put visage cloaks over the windows and triple locked the entrance. But if this was the brimstone shower that the astronomists were talking about-

She quickly snuck into her bed as she heard the Master coming her way, sniffing through ragged breaths. “Kikyo!’’ His bellowing voice echoed across from the staircase to the hall where Kikyo was sleeping with her children. Ryzek was startled awake as the Master came running across the Hall to the spot where she lay, and stood there, heaving.

The Master’s actual name was Gynryej Hazzelov the IIIrd, but she was bound by oath not to address him by his proper name. She was only to call him Master. Nothing else.

The floor felt even colder as the Master stepped in. His vague shadow chased away the light in the bleak hall, and suddenly she could smell his beastly sweat. His paws pounded the floor as he approached her, and the floor became freezing.

“I know you are not asleep,” he growled, his voice sounding worn out. Another nightmare that woke him up.

Kikyo considered getting up, but decided to test his patience instead. After last weekend, she just wanted to kill the bastard using his own dagger. But Kikyo had two young children to worry about.

Master growled at her, the snarl sending shudders through her spine.

He finally left her in the halls, with her moth eaten blanket and little Ryzek and Kaeri in her protection, as she slowly drifted to sleep.


End file.
